


Golobki

by ButterflyGhost



Series: Learning to Dance series [2]
Category: due South
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 22:23:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyGhost/pseuds/ButterflyGhost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over the year, as well as my 'big projects' I will be posting the occasional giftfic. And this is to remind people that Learning to Dance is still alive and well, and will be returning to our screens sometime next year. In the meantime... this one is for Vicki. (And there will be more.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golobki

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vic32](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vic32/gifts).



He's a nice young man, my son's young man. Reminds me a little bit of Stella – not that I'll tell Stanley. He does have a type. Very clever, very controlled. Beautiful too of course – that doesn’t hurt. But much as I love Stella (and we still talk every week) I get on better with Ben. He’s easier to baby, if you know what I mean. He looks like he needs a big fat hug.

He's standing in the kitchen, looking confused, a heap of ingredients on the counter. 

When he first came round to visit, I thought he'd be embarrassed by how small our place is, but Stanley took me aside and told me to stop fussing. "Mum," he said, "before we got together he was living in his office. He grew up in a cabin in the North. He won't mind you and Dad living in a trailer."

And, do you know, Stanley was absolutely right? That surprised me. Stella never once looked down her nose at us, but she did occasionally look uncomfortable when Damien dragged engine bits in and put them on the kitchen table. And, oh Lord, that time when Stanley and Damien both had wind, and decided to have a ‘who can be the most disgusting’ competition. Stella and I had to flee for the hills and do girly things just to recover. That trailer was horrible for days. It was like living in a baked bin tin, or a rotten egg. I’m still not sure I forgive either one of them.

Ben doesn't seem at all bothered by our ways, though I’m not sure how he’d have reacted to the Windy War of nineteen seventy nine. He's a lovely boy – I don’t think he’d have joined in. You never can tell with men though. Still, he gets on with us all okay. After the first visit Damien said, gruffly, "I never thought I'd have a son-in-law, but he'll do." 

"Damien Kowalski," I told him, "you're a man who knits socks, and you do for me." He laughed at me then, from his armchair, and threw a ball of yarn. I don’t think he’ll finish those socks for Cathy in time for Christmas.

"My mother always said you were a harpy." 

"Yes, well, you know what they say, Damien, men marry women who remind them of their mothers." 

"Are you calling my mother a harpy?" 

"I wouldn't dare. She'd turn me into a toad."

He got up then and chased me round the trailer, till we ended up giggling and kissing our apologies. "We're too old for this," I told him, trying to catch my breath. 

"Never," he said, and went on to prove it.

But oh yes, I was talking about Ben... he came round last week, wanting to learn my recipe for Golabki. I had far too much fun teasing him. He just looked so solemn as he mixed the ingredients... onions, and rice and ground beef. "You can use pork, if you have to," I tell him, "but the juices are never so nice." He nods, looking like he's performing brain surgery, and wraps the stuffing into the cabbage... a little more messily than I'd like, but not bad for a beginner - and stacks them into the casserole dish. Then he's got his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, and I can see how Stanley fell for him. Because really, if Damien wasn't already the handsomest man on the planet, I'd think Ben was quite scrumptious.

Anyway, he spoons the beef stock over the little bundles, pops it all in the oven, and glances at me for approval. I grin at him, and pop a kiss on his chin. He squeaks, which is the funniest thing I've heard since Stanley was a baby, and woke himself up once breaking wind.

When I stop laughing my belly hurts, and Damien has come in from whatever he was doing the car.

"What are you two love birds doing?"

"I'm tormenting our son-in-law." (Not that he is our son-in-law, but you know what I mean.)

"Well stop it,” Damien grumbled. “We have to get him back in one piece by the end of the day, or we'll never hear the end of it."

He steps back out again, and I'm still chuckling. Ben's blushing, and I pat him on the cheek. "I'll show you how he likes the sour cream, son," I tell him. "Then you sit down, and tell me about that grandchild of ours."

"Cathy's fine, Mrs Kowal..."

"Barbara," I tell him, rolling my eyes. One of these days he’ll remember... "Do not make me beat you to death with this wooden spoon." 

He laughs out loud. "That would never do, Barbara," he says. "I don't think Ray or Cathy would ever forgive you."

"It would be a mercy killing." 

He twinkles at me, very blue. "If you say so, Barbara."

When he leaves, with a notebook full of secret family recipes, and a casserole full of slightly messy but very tasty Golabki, I'm humming to myself. Damien snuggles in behind me as I clean the kitchen surfaces. "Happy," he asks.

"Yes, dear," I reply, and tip my head back to kiss him. "Very."

And I can tell that Ben makes my Stanley, or as he calls him, Ray, just as happy as my Damien makes me.


End file.
